Friendly Strangers
by suspect tomatoes
Summary: He knew the walls of Jericho would eventually come crashing down. Jericho/Steph.


**A/N: So I watched When Harry Met Sally the other day, and I wanted to write a story like it. So, here it is. Just as a note - I'm not sure when Steph and Paul really started dating (I know it was in '99, but I'm not sure about the exact date) so let's just pretend it was after their drive-thru wedding. After all, this _is_ fanfiction.  
**

_October __1999_

Stephanie McMahon coasted her rental car to the curb, listening to it sputter before it finally sank back on its wheels, glass popping, engine hissing. She tried the ignition again, but it just made a pathetic purring noise and didn't turn over.

"Shit," she hissed, trying again, unsuccessfully. She sat back, pressing her manicured nails to her lips. "Shit!"

It was so damn cold outside, but Steph knew she had to get out and try to fix the car. It didn't help that it was after midnight and she was in the middle of nowhere. She sighed and wrenched open the car, pulling her jacket tighter as she headed to the front.

"How do I open this thing?" Steph tugged at the rim, but it wouldn't budge. She hated rental cars. Each model was a different style, had different ways of working. Why couldn't they just make it all the same?

She growled and went back to her open door, facing the bitter wind as she bent in to find the latch that usually unlocked the hood. It wasn't where it usually was, but under the vents, barely visible.

"Stupid car," she muttered, pressing it.

She went back around and opened the hood, tapping her foot when nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing was detached, nothing was melting or smoking. It just _stopped working_.

She had to drive 750 miles to get to the next show, and she was barely out of town. It almost made sense to walk back and rent another one.

A pair of headlights washed over the car, and Stephanie straightened, looking out past the lifted hood. Another car was speeding down toward her, and she debated flagging it down.

The car slowed on its own, however, coming to a stop right beside hers.

"Need some help?"

Steph bent down and looked through the open window, grimacing at the blond inside. "Chris?"

"Yeah. Wait." He furrowed his brow and moved closer. "_Steph_?"

She smiled sheepishly. "Yeah."

He opened his door and pulled himself out, leaning over the roof of the car. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just _hanging out_, Chris." She kicked one of the tires. "My car... broke."

"_Broke_?" He looked away to hide his smile.

"It's not funny!"

"I'm not laughing!" He held up his hands. "Take it easy, Princess."

She grimaced. "Don't call me, Princess, it's creepy."

"Whatever you say." He got out and slammed his door shut, walking around to her. "Do you need a jump start or something?"

"I don't know! It just stopped working."

"Hmm." Chris poked around at the engine, twisting and turning a few things. "Try it now."

Steph nodded and slid inside, leaving the door open as she gunned the engine. She looked up when Chris started screaming—she could see him convulsing through the small crack between the hood, his fingers clearly touching something he wasn't supposed to. She screeched and let go of the key.

He poked his head around the hood, grinning. "Gotcha."

She huffed. "Chris, you asshole!"

"You should've seen your face," he breathed. He patted his stomach and threw his head back, laughing obnoxiously.

Steph pursed her lips. "If this car worked, I would run you _over_."

"If this car worked, I wouldn't be here. Consider yourself lucky." He rubbed his hands together. "I don't think you're going to be driving this any time soon. Call a tow truck and get this thing picked up."

"Oh, _great_!" Stephanie thumped back against the seat. "How am I going to get to the show?"

"What? Am I riding a bike?" He opened the passenger door of his car. "Get in. Use the phone. I'll drive us the rest of the way."

"I don't want to get into a car with you."

"Why not?"

"Because you do stupid shit!"

"Not when I have precious cargo." He winked. "Come on, Princess. Either call daddy and tell him to radio in a helicopter for you, or get in and call a tow truck. It's up to you."

Steph glared at him, but got in, leaning over to dial information for a tow service. She watched Chris lean against the hood of the car while he waited for her to finish, looking at his fingernails or staring out into the horizon. He constantly looked like he was posing for a picture.

She hung up the phone. "They'll be here in fifteen minutes."

"Great." Chris rubbed his stomach. "I'm hungry. Want to get some dinner?"

Steph looked at the clock on the dashboard. "It's twelve-forty-five."

"So we're getting breakfast, then." He got in behind the wheel, looking at her expectantly. "We can't move if you don't close your door."

Steph glanced at her car. "I need to get my stuff."

"Then hop to it, Princess. I'm not your bellhop."

Stephanie rolled her eyes and got out. "Why am I even agreeing to this?"

"Because you can't resist me." He wasn't even looking her, his fingers fiddling with the radio. "Now hurry up—my stomach's growling like a lion."

* * *

"How are you drinking coffee? It's almost two."

"I'm probably going to break night driving." He looked at her over the rim of his mug, brow raised. "Unless we're getting a room."

She bared her teeth and looked away. "Atrocious."

"God bless you." He put down his cup, glancing up at her. "You sure you're not hungry?"

She shook her head.

Chris looked up. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"Slightly."

"Why?"

"Because I hardly know you." She rubbed her arms. "And I'm going to be stuck in a car for twelve hours with you and only you."

"Most people would be ecstatic." Chris smiled but she just looked away. "Oh, come on! You have to have a sense of humor."

"I do. I just don't think you're funny."

Chris's brows shot up. He rubbed a hand over his heart. "You certainly know how to kick people where it hurts."

"It's in my blood."

He laughed slightly. "I'm sure you have... _many_ suitors." He picked up his drink again, wiggling his eyebrows. "_Princess_."

"I _told_ you to stop calling me that."

He held up his hand. "Fair enough."

The waitress came by and dropped Chris's food off, refilling Steph's water before she was on her way again.

Chris looked at Steph. "Want some?"

"I already told you no."

"It's all you say." He forked some eggs into his mouth, watching her while he chewed. "Tell me something you say yes to."

She looked at him, biting the side of her lip. "What?"

"What do you say yes to?"

She played with her straw. "That's a weird question."

"I'm a weird guy."

She shrugged. "I'm not too sure how to answer that."

He put his hands behind his head, stretching. "_Humor me_."

She sighed angrily. "I don't know!"

"Would you say yes if I asked you to marry me?"

She looked up, mouth open in disgust. "God no!"

He chuckled. "A simple no would've sufficed."

"Sorry." She leaned over and snatched a homefry off his plate.

"Don't worry about it." He rubbed his hand against his leg, thinking. "What about money? What if I offered you a million dollars right now?"

"I wouldn't take it." She glanced up at him distractedly, stealing another.

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

He sat back, one leg stretched out. "_Why_?"

She smiled, chewing. "Because I'm the billion dollar princess."

Chris genuinely laughed, pointing his finger like a gun at her. "Touché."

"See?" She looked up at him as she took a piece of bacon. "I have a sense of humor."

"You mentioned that." He pushed some more food between his lips, dropping his fork noisily against the plate. "So. Talk to me, princess."

"What have I been doing?"

"Saying you weren't hungry." He pushed his plate toward her, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. "Finish it while I go pay."

* * *

"I can drive if you want," Steph offered, walking through the door he held open for her.

"After what you did to your poor car? No way."

"I didn't _do _anything to it!"

"You're not touching my car." He smiled at her over the roof as he unlocked his door. "You don't have the magic fingers."

She waited as he leaned over and pulled the lock up. "I'll get some sleep, then. Have fun driving."

"Don't be mad at me, Princess." Chris turned the ignition, pulling his seat belt across as he switched it into reverse. "I'm just looking out for you."

She rolled her eyes, settling back. "I appreciate it."

He glanced at her as he pulled onto the Thruway, cracking the window slightly. "That too cold for you, Princess?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Is it?"

"No." She closed her eyes. "It feels nice, actually."

Chris switched hands on the wheel, using his free one to change the radio station. "Anything tickling your fancy?"

"No."

"Surprise, surprise," he murmured. He settled on a rock station and got comfortable, elbow leaning on the open window.

"My father's not going to be pleased I drove with you."

Chris scoffed slightly. "Why's that?"

"Because you're a guy." She shrugged. "And I'm his little girl."

Chris nodded. "I can dig it."

She sighed contently. "He won't believe that we're just friends."

"We're not friends."

Steph opened her eyes. "What?"

He shook his head. "We can't be friends."

She sat up. "Why the hell not?"

Chris kept his eyes on the road, his fingers stroking over his chin. "Because I want to sleep with you."

Steph blinked. "What?"

"You're incredibly attractive." He glanced at her, then looked behind them, switching lanes. He turned off the directional, sliding his hand to the top of the wheel. "We can't be friends."

"We can't be friends because you think I'm _hot_?"

He smiled slightly, eyes green from the dashboard. "We can't be friends because we won't stay friends. You'll fall in love with me or I'll get you drunk and we'll sleep together."

"How come _I'll_ fall in love with _you_?"

"Because everyone falls in love with me."

Steph frowned, crossing her arms. She looked out the passenger window. "Well, don't count on it."

"I certainly can." He looked at her, eyes settling back on the highway. "That's why we can't be friends."

**A/N: How do you like it? Chris Jericho, how I love thee. Review.**


End file.
